Unwanted, Unrequited, Unexpressed
by MonochromePrism
Summary: France loves England. He has always loved England, but instead of him, America was England's lover. When the Frenchman finally breaks down, he finally decides on what he's been brooding on, Will he confess, or will he stay silent? First Fic, One-Shot, R and R!


**Unwanted~Unrequited~Unexpressed**

"Meeting adjourned!" A certain blonde American yelled at the top of his voice, which didn't seem all that loud due to being muffled by a large, upsized beef burger. The rest of the nations had already gotten used to his rude manners, and took this as the cue to pack up their folders and get out as quick as possible. In mere minutes, most of the nations had vanished from the room, which seemed much bigger now than it was before.

This left three blonde nations in the room, the formerly mentioned American nation, the thick-browed English nation and the - as dubbed by all the others - perverse French nation. Said French nation was slowly gathering up his papers, stealing the occasional glance towards England, who was packing at a pace similliar to his. The American nation just stuffed everything into the inside of his bomber jacket and slid over to England's side, "Oi, dude, you ready for our date?" The self-proclaimed hero whispered in a low, raspy voice. But of course, France didn't need to hear him to know what he was talking about.

**A date.**

England had a blush that was very much prominent against his pale complexion that reaffirmed France's assumption. France held down an otherwise audible sigh and folded the papers into several tight layers such that they would fit into his pocket. After thrusting them into his pocket, he started walking at a steady pace towards the door. Only turning back once more to catch sight of the bushy-browed blonde blushing and stuttering out a rather long-winded reply to his significant other, oblivious to how the French nation's hands trembled as he tried to stop himself from just straight out tackling the Englishman.

**He was just too cute for his own good.**

France whipped around quickly and marched out the door, slamming it close rather loudly. Once outside, he quickened his pace, eventually starting to run, towards the nearest washroom, locking himself in one of the many small cubicles. He slammed his back onto the door and slid down, giving the area beside himself a good, strong punch. 'Dammit... Dammit!' these words slowly repeated themselves in his mind as he clung to the cloth of his dress shirt, sobbing uncontrollably.

**Why did he still act like this?**

He thought he had already accepted the fact England was already with America. Clearly, he hadn't fully accepted it yet. The idea of forcing his love on England crossed his mind, but was promptly pushed out. There was no way he could do a horrible thing like that to anyone, much less his object of affection. What else could he do?

**Nothing.**

He could do nothing but watch silently and quietly. To get in the middle of someone else's relationship, that would be rather barbaric, wouldn't it? To force love on someone not ready for it would be too, that's why he didn't tell England his feelings all this time, that and the fact whenever he tried to express them it always came out in a perverted way. The blonde sighed once again and let his head rest in between his legs, he didn't care the he was in a toilet, he just needed to relax and clear his mind. "Ah... This is what they call unrequited love, non? It's a rather horrible feeling..." he tried to chuckle to himself, but all that came out was a cracked sob. He cried again, again and again. One hour in the toilet, crying. That one hour wouldn't come back, neither would his and England's friendship if he confessed now. He let out yet another soft sob as he thought of their friendship dissolving, being dissolved by him himself. He just felt so hopeless, then again, maybe..

**Maybe, it was just better like this?**

Yes, it was very much better like this, he was pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to please England even if he was going out with him. It was as England once said, America was the only one suited for him. That's right, in the end, he did all of this for England.

**How ironic.**

France lay his head back against the hard, plastic-like surface and let his golden locks flare out. He managed a small smile as he slowly got up and stumbled out of the toilet. The whole way back home he smiled, knowing he made a decision that hurt him, but helped more people than him.

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Did you guys like that? My first fanfic ever! R and R!


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